


i'll cover you in moonlight

by marcaskane (noblydonedonnanoble)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2015-03-12
Packaged: 2018-03-17 12:32:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3529535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noblydonedonnanoble/pseuds/marcaskane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SPOILERS FOR SEASON 2 FINALE</p><p> </p><p>Abby Griffin does not take very favorably to required bed rest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'll cover you in moonlight

                Abby Griffin does not take very favorably to required bed rest.

                The first time Dr. Jackson returns from a break to find Abby out of bed and looking over the wounded, he decides that it might be better for her to recover alone, away from the kids. But it doesn’t take her long to make her way back to medical again.

                Despite her protests of, “You shouldn’t be turning down my help,” and, “There’s no point in making me lie around,” there are guards staked outside of medical who receive express orders not to allow Abby inside for at least a few more days. And since she doesn’t really want to see anyone else, there’s not really a point in leaving her bedroom if she can’t be useful.

                When she hears a knock on her door that evening, she assumes it’s someone from medical with fresh dressings for her leg, and calls out for them to come in without a second thought.

                “I hope Jackson doesn’t think I need a babysitter now,” she mutters; she intentionally speaks loud enough for her guest to hear. If she must lie idly by while their people recover, while her daughter is out there alone doing God knows what, then she’s at least going to make it clear that she’s not happy about it.

                But she gets a chuckle in response. “We both know you’re perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, Abby.”

                The sound of Marcus’s voice surprises her and she looks up abruptly. He is holding fresh bandages, as she expected, but—“Why did Jackson send you?” Why did he send a councilor to do the job of a doctor’s assistant, she means.

                “Well, I went by medical to see how you were feeling, and when I heard that they moved you here, I offered myself up as an errand boy.” As he takes a few steps forward, he smiles shyly. “How are you doing?”

                “I’d be doing better if I could treat my patients.” Because at least while she’s worrying about how to keep the rest of Camp Jaha alive, she doesn’t have to worry about her daughter, out there alone.

                “Abby, less than forty-eight hours ago, you were lying on an operating table in Mount Weather—this is where you need to be right now. I know you know that.”

                She grimaces and doesn’t bother to agree or disagree.

                A moment of silence stretches between them as they gaze at one another, both hesitant to say anything more. It’s Marcus who breaks it. “Can I, uh, help you change your bandages?”

                Both of them know that Abby would be perfectly capable of taking care of it on her own, but still, the word, “Alright,” slips from her mouth before she’s even really processed his offer. And so he pulls a chair up next to her and she pushes away her blanket, sitting up fully and dangling her legs off the side of the bed.

                From the moment they got back to camp, Abby’s known that she would need to pull Marcus to the side to talk to him privately about the events of the past week. Because something is different between them now. Maybe it’s been coming for a while and she’d been able to ignore it because of the imminent war, but when he helped her off that operating table, she had become achingly aware of a feeling that she was—and still is—too scared to identify.

                Now that they’re alone in her room, she has no idea what to say.

                He is unbelievably gentle as he pulls the old dressings away from her skin and disposes of them. Abby gets the sense that his thoughts are racing just as much as hers, but he, too, remains quiet as he cleans around the wound.

                “I don’t like to sit still,” she murmurs. Not that he asked.

                Marcus keeps his gaze down but she can still see the smile that reaches his eyes. “Of course not. You’re too stubborn for that.” He says it with the utmost fondest. “But you’ll be up and about soon.”

                “Not soon enough.”

                He lets out a long breath, and then he does look up at her. “Abby…”

                “I know what you’re going to say. You’re going to tell me that Clarke can take care of herself and that she’ll come back home when she’s ready. I don’t want to hear it.”

                “Actually, I was just going to say I’m sorry. Which I know isn’t what you want to hear either, but… I am.”

                Abby can’t help it if she still doesn’t want to smile but she takes his free hand, the one not holding a damp towel, and squeezes it gently.

                This would be a good time. She could say something now. Because she knows full well that he’s just trying to communicate how much he cares and if he cares like she does…

                She lets him keep working instead.

                While he’s busy wrapping the new bandage, Marcus says, “I can bring you some dinner too, if you like. I… I know you might like to get it yourself, but—”

                “Have you eaten yet?”

                “What? Uh, no. No, I haven’t.”

                “You can bring back some for yourself too. We’ll eat together.”

                “Oh.” He sounds surprised. “Okay, I’ll do that.”

                “Okay.”

                When he’s secured the dressings, he hesitates, his eyes down. Their breathing is the only sound that fills the room.

                They begin to speak at the exact same moment.

                “Abby—”

                “Marcus—”

                Both of them chuckle slightly, and Marcus graciously gestures for her to continue. She clears her throat as an excuse to gather her thoughts.

                “I think we should talk about everything that’s happened. And what it means for us.”

                In the eternity (more likely just a second) before he replies, Abby dreads his answer. Because what if he doesn’t see an ‘us’ the way she does? What if he thinks she’s talking about all of their people? Or what if he knows precisely what she means but he doesn’t feel the same way?

                “Yes?” Is that hope that she detects in his voice, or is she just imagining it?

                Abby nods carefully, trying her best to keep her expression neutral. “I… I’ve become… I think I might be…” She closes her eyes and shakes her head, letting out a groan. “I’m sorry, I don’t… I’m not particularly good at this.”

                “I think I know what you’re trying to get at.”

                “Do you?” She doesn’t know whether she’s more frustrated with herself for being unable to just come out and tell him that she’s in love with him, or frustrated with him for thinking that he can fill in the blanks.

                Then he’s leaning forward and pressing his lips to hers and her doubt fades away. One of his hands goes to cradle her neck, and the other reaches for her hand again, holding it softly. His touch is so tender and Abby eases into it right away, reaching for his waist and pulling him half out of his chair in an attempt to kiss him more fully.

                But Marcus, not expecting the shift, falls sideways, putting an abrupt end to their kiss as he lands hard on the floor.

                Abby starts to giggle, and although he initially seems mostly bemused as to how he ended up on the ground, Marcus joins in laughing as he hoists himself up. He settles at Abby’s side on the bed now, not in front of her, and though she notices, she doesn’t say anything. She’s too busy smiling.

                “Was I on the right track?” he asks softly.

                “Just about.” Maybe she’ll hold off on the full declaration of love. For the moment, at least.

                “Good.” He kisses her again, but before she can deepen it, he pulls away. “I’m going to get us dinner.”

                She’s suddenly not feeling particularly hungry—and it’s got a great deal to do with the way Marcus’s hand is gripping her waist, right in the space between her shorts and her shirt, where it’s riding up. She knows she should eat, though, so she nods. “Okay.”

                He presses another kiss to her temple before standing. When he’s nearly out the door, Abby calls after him. “Marcus. Hurry back.”

                “I will.” His smile fills her with warmth.


End file.
